Times And Seasons
by tielan
Summary: To everything there is a time and place, and to all things a season.


**Times And Seasons**

Love isn't like a tap you can turn off, a switch you can flick, a ZPM you can remove.

Sometimes, even after disappointment, it's hard to forget what went before.

Which is why Elizabeth arranged for this phone call.

It's night in Atlantis; the gateroom is full of shadows, as the city lies sleeping. She made very sure that she picked a night when Rodney's running extended tests on a device whose brief she hasn't yet had a chance to read, and a night when John's running the weekly card games in the rec room.

She rakes her hands through her hair and stares blankly at her computer screen, composing speeches in her head, thinking of what she wants to say and how she can say it without sounding like an idiot. Her palms are hot against her face, and she turns them over, laying the backs of her fingers against her cheeks to cool her flush.

Fifteen years of negotiation and diplomacy, and right now, Elizabeth wonders if she could stammer her way through hello.

As the time for the contact draws closer, her fears flood her. She wonders if she should have made the request in the first place, sending the message quietly with Caldwell. She wonders if it was a stupid thing to do, if she's going to make a fool of herself.

Well, the last goes without saying, maybe. There's no easy way to do this.

But she has to know.

Just shy of midnight, she takes a deep breath and goes out to the control room. "Sergeant Miller? Please set up the weekly report transmission and the connection I requested from before, and dial Earth."

The technician might be a little surprised at the request, but after another glance at her face, he does as she asks without question. The shimmering blue of the open wormhole flickers through the room, and the SFs on duty downstairs look up at her in query. She reassures them with a gesture, and they nod and go back to their beat.

"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis."

"Dr Weir." General Landry's voice comes through her earpiece, not through the control room speakers. "How are things in the city?"

"Busy, General," she says, forcing herself through the small talk that's usual fare for these contacts. "As usual. The weekly report is being sent now."

There's a moment of silence. "Sergeant Harriman confirms." There's a split second hesitation. "I understand that the unusual timing of this transmission has another purpose?"

"Yes," she says, stifling the instinct to apologise for the trouble. "If you're willing to grant my request."

"Well, it's a little unusual...but we have the connection you asked for." She can't see him, but she can imagine his expression, the shrewd eyes staring at the open wormhole, as if he can see her face through the glittering surface of the event horizon. "You're sure about this?"

_No._ "Yes." Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "Thank you for allowing me to do this. I understand there are costs--"

"Just make it fast," Landry tells her. "Sergeant Harriman is making the contact now."

Her palms are sweaty. She wipes them on her trousers and turns back towards her office. The communications line runs directly to her earpiece, and from her microphone straight through to the SGC. From the SGC, the connection will run privately through to the phone system in the SGC, and from there, out to--

"Simon Wallis's surgery, Tania speaking."

Elizabeth forces her voice to calm. "Good afternoon, Tania. Is Dr. Wallis taking calls right now?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Just..." Elizabeth swallows. "An old friend. Can you put me directly through to him?"

"One moment please." Tania's voice is light and brisk, the businesslike tones of a medical secretary who deals with everything from patients in hypochondriac panic, to bureaucratic red tape.

As the on-hold music plays it's tinny rounds in Elizabeth's head, she realises that, even more than before, she doesn't know what to say. How do you explain, '_I had an induced hallucination in which you were dead, and for all that I knew it wasn't true, it felt real and I needed to hear your voice?_' How do you explain it and not sound like you belong in an asylum?

"Dr. Wallis here. Can I help you?"

Simon's quiet tones fill the earpiece, and Elizabeth's not in Atlantis, not on her balcony. She's remembering the distracted look in his eyes, the absent-minded way he'd answer the phone, his attention on something else until he heard her voice on the line and his attention would shift to her.

"Hello?"

Quiet and stubborn in his own way, clinging to the things he knew, unwilling to take a step into the beyond. Giving up on her, even if she'd been gone without a hope of return. It hurts to know that she was put aside in less than a year when she missed him and his solidarity so much in those first few months.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Elizabeth's fingers brush across the top of her desk - her office, her city, her people.

She'd loved this man - he'd been her anchor when she needed a home to return to. Somewhere - unmarred by the fact that he gave up on them so fast, untainted by the fact that he let her believe that things were okay between them for the better part of three weeks before he told her there was someone else - she still loves him, remembers him with affection and care. In the dream, his death was like a cold shadow, stealing across her sunlight.

Bad enough to lose Atlantis, worse to lose what she had given up to gain Atlantis in the first place.

"Hello." She manages that much at least, although her voice croak through her throat.

"Can I help you?"

He'd loved the woman she'd been on Earth.

Elizabeth turns and surveys the gateroom and the people within it. She thinks of the city beyond this room, six piers stretching out into the sea from this central space.

If Simon had come to Atlantis, could he have loved Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition? How would he have dealt with John and Rodney - the two of them so confrontational, yet her closest friends and allies in the city? What would he have thought of Teyla's gentle formality, Carson's quiet genius, and Ronon's rough protectiveness?

There are tears in her eyes, turning the shadows beyond into watercolour blurs.

She's relieved that he's alive, but she's also relieved that it's over between them. What's done is done and cannot be undone. These negotiations are over and this chapter of her life is closed, complete with poignant epilogue.

"No," she manages, grateful for the lump in her throat that makes it difficult to speak. Without it, he'd recognise her voice. As it is, she hopes he's busy enough not to realise who's called him, just to hear his voice. "You can't help me. I'm sorry to waste your time, Dr. Wallis." So formal, so careful, so final. "Thank you." A tap of the earpiece changes the channel to the SGC control room band. "Please end the call, Sergeant."

"Yes, ma'am."

There are a few moments of silence before General Landry asks, "Dr. Weir?"

Elizabeth's already used those few precious seconds to regain her self-possession. "General. Thank you for allowing me that call."

"You're welcome, although I understand it's been a rough couple of days."

"You could say that."

"Be assured that we're going to take it out of you sooner or later."

She smiles a little at that. Expecting anything less from the Air Force would be stupid. "Have a good afternoon, General."

"And a good evening to you, Doctor."

Sergeant Miller terminates the wormhole to Earth. Elizabeth gives him a nod before she retreats back to her office. If the Sergeant has questions inside his head for the unscheduled contact, he doesn't ask them. Maybe he'll speculate about them later when he's off-duty.

She hopes not. The last thing she needs or wants is to be the talk of the city for a call to an old flame.

A movement outside her office catches her eye. She expects John, or possibly Rodney, alerted by some sixth sense that the Stargate was opened. Instead, Ronon rests his shoulder against the doorjamb, lean and casual. His head tilts, questioning her presence here. "Still working?"

"No," she says as she stands up. "Just finished."

He grins at her like a kid in a candy store. "So, you going to come for a run?"

Elizabeth bites back a laugh. Ronon's invitation is so casual; easy if she comes, easy if she doesn't. She appreciates the attempt to draw her out - not many people in the expedition bother. "Not tonight," she tells him. "Past my bedtime."

Another shrug sends his dreadlocks bouncing across the well-muscled lines of his shoulders. "Tomorrow?"

She grins. He gets full marks for persistence. "Maybe." A quick glance and nod at the sergeant and she heads for the corridor to the personnel quarters.

"I'll ask," he warns, keeping easy stride with her.

"And I expect you to," she returns, before indicating the direction of his usual running route. "Go."

He starts off at a run, his hair swirling around him, his movements solid and steady until he vanishes from sight.

Elizabeth smiles as she walks to her room.

Love isn't something that you can just switch off. But to everything there is a season and a time; and the time and season for Simon Wallis in Elizabeth's life has come and gone.

It's really over.

- **fin** -


End file.
